


Fire Hazard

by InSpaceYoghurt



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Angst, Fire, Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InSpaceYoghurt/pseuds/InSpaceYoghurt
Summary: Someone's house catches on fire and Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller can only think of one person who would do such a thing on purpose.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Fire Hazard

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my lord. I actually updated this.  
> So. After not looking at this fic for months on end, I finally gave it another go. I did make a couple changes to this first chapter. The plot is completely the same, though the end of this chapter is just a smidge different than before the update. I fixed more grammar mistakes and typos and hopefully improved some of the writing. Apparently y'all thought this was good? Me personally I thought the writing was a little weak in this but oh well. I'm improving, yeah? (Hopefully...)  
> Anyways. I really hope you enjoy this update. I should be coming out with an official new UPDATE UPDATE with a new chapter and not just a couple changes to the first chapter. Thanks for being patient!

_Water. Floods. Suffocating. Breathing._

“ _Help! Help!” a voice called out._

_Hardy looked around him. His whole body felt heavy as he waded through deep water as his head barely bobbed above the water. The dark clouds above him poured down heavy rain. Within seconds his head was submerged under the water. He tried to swim to the surface but a wiry hand clung to his leg, pulling him down even further._

“ _Let go!” he tried to scream, but only bubbles seemed to exit his open mouth._

_A ghostly white figure floated towards him in the water, performing a graceful dance as beams of light from above reflected around her. She was no older than ten and had dark hair that floated around her face like the snakes on Medusa’s head. Her eyes were closed and her body wavered in front of him for a moment._

_But then she screamed, louder than anything he had heard before._

_Her body sank._

_Hardy reached out for the girl, pushing her above his head, but for some reason, her body was too heavy to carry. He tried with all his might, but she continued to fall slowly to the bottom pushing him towards the bottom of an endless pit._

_He screamed out to her, but she didn’t respond._

_Her transparent body soon became a creamy, pale white. Her closed eyes resembled something of sunken black pits and her clothes started to wind tightly around her skinny body._

_Hardy closed his eyes, only for a second, but he didn’t catch who dragged him out of the river._

_Opening his eyes, he gasped out for air, but something was stopping him. His eyes stretched out even wider in panic._

_He couldn’t breathe._

_He couldn’t breathe._

_BREATHE!_

_BREATHE!_

Hardy rolled off his bed, gasping for air. A foul scent filled his lungs. His eyes burned and his body sweat. It took him a moment to realise that a loud sound – a ringing of some sort, was blasting in his ears. All of a sudden, he noticed that his room was covered in orange light and the awful smell that had entered his room was the smell of smoke.

_FIRE_

Flames seemed to surround him as he found his way to the flaming door frame.

“DAISY!” he choked out.

There was no reply.

The house felt as if it was getting hotter and hotter as he scrambled to find a way out, but every exit was covered with burning hot flames.

And all of a sudden he felt light-headed.

_Keep it together! Find a way out!_

But he was choking. He was choking on the air. And if the situation could get worse, it did. He felt his chest seizing up and pain shoot through his body as he gasped for air.

“DAISY!” It was the last thing that he managed to say. He could only hope she was out of the house, safe.

\------------------------

48 HOURS BEFORE

\------------------------

The evening was a quiet one. It was nearing one in the morning… or sometime around then. Hardy really didn’t know, and nor did he care. He just needed to take a breather for a bit. Even though the chaos of his biggest cases had passed, the ghosts never rested. They lingered around him, latching on to him in his dreams, pulling him under deep water as he slept. Taking a breather out by the beach seemed to be calming, despite Hardy’s hatred for being around water.

Sitting down, the detective wrapped his long arms loosely around his legs, letting the wind blow his hair around as he watched the tide fall in and out.

“Nice evening to be out on the beach, yeah?”

The voice startled Hardy out of his thoughts. Standing up a bit too quickly, he wobbled back a bit. He looked around, spotting a tall, dark figure. Hardy didn’t say anything. He just watched as the figure got closer and closer until Hardy could make out his pale face and balded head.

What was peculiar was the fact that he wasn’t smiling. He just stood there.

“Didn’t expect to see you – ever,” said Hardy, staring at the man with disgust.

“Yeah? Well we have unfinished business. We need to talk,” said Joe, mimicking the same glare Hardy was giving him.

”Why me?” Hardy asked.

Joe didn’t reply.

_Tread carefully._

“Be glad Miller isn’t here tonight,” said Hardy.

The mention of Ellie seemed to break his trance.

_So that’s why he’s here._

“Why’s that?” 

“Why do you think?” Hardy asked, a clear image of Miller kicking and screaming in fury for what Joe had done.

Unfortunately, Joe must have remembered too. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Joe gave a loud yell, almost a scream, charging with full force, knocking the wind out of Hardy as a hard fist collided with his stomach.

Hardy recoiled, throwing a punch back at Joe in defence, which seemed to catch Joe’s attention. Both men stumbled back after numerous attacks on one another. Hardy was already aching enough without the kicks and punches being thrown at him.

“What the hell do you want with me, Joe?” Hardy asked, taking a deep breath in. There was a silence that was only broken by the crashing of the waves below him. And that’s when Hardy realised that the edge of a cliff wasn’t the best spot to be facing a child murderer.

“What do I want?” Joe laughed out as if Hardy had told a bad joke. “What I want, detective inspector, is my wife back. And my children, Tom and Fred, back. I want my family that you _stole_ back.”

“I never stole your family, Joe,” said Hardy pushing himself up. “You pushed them away.”

“How dare you say that! I protected them for my whole life! But then suddenly, a new man steps into Broadchurch- you- and a horrible - unspeakable - event takes place, and I take the blame. So, let me ask; what were you doing that night?” asked Joe with a menacing look of anger and curiosity.

“What night?”

“The evening when you arrested me. You saw _my_ wife that evening. It came up during the trial. Ring a bell?” he asked.

Hardy sighed. “Nothing happened that night. Nothing,” he repeated. Hardy thought about all of the embarrassment that had brought. Even two years after Joe’s trial, there were still rumours going around and dirty looks given when he and Miller walked around together.

“You’re lying, Detective,” Joe said. “You were shagging _my wife!_ It’s what they said in court!”

“Yeah. You know what other bullshit was declared in that same courtroom? That you’ve got nothing to be guilty of!” Hardy snapped.

Joe took a step back.

”But we both know the truth, Joe.”

Joe shook his head ferociously. “No... no!”

“It’s not too late-“

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Joe yelled, face going red. “You have ruined my life!”

“You ruined your own life, Joe,” said Hardy. “And I never slept with Ellie.”

“Why should I believe you?” 

“Because unlike you, I’m not a lying child murderer,” he muttered. But as soon as it rolled off his tongue he was hit with instant regret.

Joe charged full speed at Hardy, throwing all his energy into a single punch, nearly knocking Hardy out of consciousness. Hardy fell to the ground, near the edge of the cliffs.

“Ye – yer not proving yer point,” Hardy managed to breathe out. “You kill me here, throw my body off the edge, yer not provin’- not a – a child murdere’” All of his energy was gone, and he could feel his heart racing, pounding against his chest.

For once, Hardy thought Joe was actually considering what he was doing. That he was actually thinking through his actions. That he meant to end another life. And after what seemed like an hour of aching pain for Hardy, Joe threw another hard kick at the detective laying on the ground.

Hardy spat blood.

“This is what happens to people who cross me,” said Joe.

“Like what happened to Danny?” 

A yell. A scream. And then another kick.

Hardy’s vision was going splotchy and everything seemed darker than it was. He tried focusing on the stars above him, but they all seemed to blur together. Hardy heard the ocean crashing just below him, and he couldn’t help but think what his body would look like when it landed on the beach. Or would Joe strangle him the way he did Danny?

Another yell came, and it almost sounded as if he was saying something. Hardy didn’t look up, and just readied himself for another hard kick – or maybe even worse. But it never came. No kick and no fall. He heard a voice calling out from the distance and the sound of feet pattering away and the tall grass brushing against a moving body, running off.

“DI Hardy?” the second voice called, but it was too muted for Hardy to identify, so instead, Hardy shut his eyes and slept.

\--------------------------------

Hardy let his eyes adjust to bright beaming lights just above him. The overwhelming scent of disinfectant wavered over to him, making him feel light-headed for a second. Or maybe the light-headedness was just from waking up. Whatever the reason, Hardy knew he was in a hospital, and it became his mission, as always, to get out as fast as possible. He hated being connected to (not so strange now) machines.

“Look who’s up,” a voice said to his side.

Hardy swung his head in that direction, ultimately regretting doing so with so much force. To his side, he saw a man in a grey jumper and jeans. Hardy was so used to seeing him in his all-black linen with a white collar, it took him a moment to realise the man sitting next to him was Paul Coates.

“You,” Hardy mumbled, though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But he didn’t apologise.

“Detective Inspector,” said Paul, pretending not to have heard Hardy’s ignorance. “Wasn’t sure when you’d be up.”

“What time is it?” Hardy asked, searching for one of those round, black clocks that silently ticked away.

“Eight.” Paul continued to sit in his chair, looking down at his hands.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” Hardy finally said.  
“Didn’t expect to see you, either,” said Paul.

There was silence.

“Look, I know we never got to be the best of – er – acquaintances,” said Paul, which surprised Hardy, “but, how are you?” he finally asked.

“I’d be better if I weren’t hooked up to all these machines,” he grumbled, starting to sit up. Right as he propped himself up, searing pain shot through his body. Hardy winced, which caused another pain to shoot through him. Hardy steadied himself.

“What was Joe doing back?” Paul asked. Hardy could tell he’d been waiting a long time to ask the question because he seemed to let all of the tersenesses build up until that point.

“Don’t really know,” said Hardy carefully, and then realised that it must have been Joe he heard, running off. “Shit! He ran off, didn’t he?”

“I’m sorry. He was already running off by the time I recognised who it was. I don’t know where he is now. I suppose I should have called-”

“Agh, well that’s that,” said Hardy, wincing again when he moved. “What were you doing up at the cliffs so late? And what are you doing back here? Thought you were going to get away from this bloody town for a bit.”

Paul shifted a bit. “It seems best if I just stay here. Broadchurch has been my home for most of my life. I’m staying with one of my mates who lives just beyond the cliffs. Decided to take a walk. It seems insomnia doesn’t just go away in a night.” Paul said the last part with a little emphasis, Hardy guessing he was mentioning when he had accused him (not really accuse, more like imply) he was responsible for Danny Latimer’s death.

“And you just stayed here the whole night?” Hardy asked.

Paul seemed to pull away further from where he was sitting. “Sorry, yeah, no. That probably wasn’t – I mean. Yeah. I did stay. I guess it’s my old habits kicking back in.”

Hardy nodded.

“I can leave, if that’s what you want,” Paul suggested.

Hardy stayed quiet for a bit but then shifted once more, this time moving his legs over the bed to dangle on the side.

“Doesn’t really matter. I’ll be seeing myself out in a bit,” Hardy said.

“I really don’t think -”

\-------------------------------------

Hardy walked to the police station aching. After several attempts trying to get past the old vicar and multiple others trying to get past the nurses, he was finally able to discharge himself from the bloody hospital. Walking in, he saw Miller give him the death stare as he wobbled over to his office.

“Where the hell were you?” she asked, but then noticed Hardy’s purple-blue eye, split lip, and limp as he sauntered into his office.

“God, what the hell happened to you?” she said, changing her question.

“Not now, Miller,” he said, sitting down, wheezing when he realised his chair wasn’t as soft as he thought it would be. He thought about whether to tell her about Joe right then. She had all the right to know if her ex-husband, was back in town. After all, Joe posed a serious threat to her and her family’s safety.

He also knew that if Miller had the chance, she wouldn’t hesitate to beat up the man. And Hardy understood that completely. Joe didn’t deserve the send-off he had gotten those years back, and he certainly deserved to go through the tortures of what Miller could do. But he also didn’t want Ellie Miller, who had gone through so much shit ever since the trial, to go through any more.

The devastation it would bring if he told her.

“Some things came up last night,” he said simply.

“No shit,” she said, scowling. “I’m not oblivious. What the hell happened last night?”

“Technically, it was this morning,” he said, then picked up a random paper left on his desk, trying to ignore the ongoing stare Miller was giving. “Oh, and did you know Paul Coates is back in town?” he asked.

“No, didn’t know that. But what does that have to do with you walking in looking half-dead?”

“Thanks, Miller. You look lovely too.” Hardy threw back a scowl and then busied himself in other work, trying to give her a signal to leave.

She didn’t.

“Shit,” she finally said.

“What-?”

“You were in hospital today? Why the hell aren’t you there now?” she asked, motioning to his wrist band.

Hardy rolled his eyes, then tore off the band, crumpling it up and tossing it in the bin.

“I swear to god, if you die on me right now-”

“I’m not going to die on you,” he snapped. “Just go to your desk. See if there’s anything on…” he looked down at the file laying open. “...Mrs. Green and her flowers? What kind of case is this?”

“It’s the kind of case Broadchurch normally has,” said Ellie. “And if you don’t like it why don’t you go move you’re sorry arse back to Sandbrook?”

“Not a chance,” Hardy sighed. “Daisy said Tess is already stressing over it. It’s another child murder.”

Ellie’s face saddened. Who would ever want to murder a child?

“Well, be glad that nothing of the sort has happened here. Honestly, I don’t think Broadchurch could take another hit like that,” said Ellie.

Hardy nodded, waiting for her to leave.

She rolled her eyes, muttering “knob” before leaving.

Once she was gone, Hardy turned the open file closed, taking out a folder of his own, jotting things down on a separate sheet of paper.

_Stolen flowers be damned. Locating Joe was more important._

\--------------------

Paul stood patiently outside the Miller house. He had gotten quite a surprising phone call from no other than Alec Hardy. As far as he and Paul knew, they were the only ones aware that Joe Miller had come back to Broadchurch. Hardy had been trying to locate Joe, but there had been no luck so far.

He had then somehow convinced Paul to visit Ellie Miller to check up on her. Ellie had supposedly declined Hardy’s offer to walk her home, and the man seemed to be genuinely worried about Ellie. Paul understood why; if a child murderer is back in town trying to reclaim his family, everyone should be worried about what could happen.

The door finally swung open.

At first, Ellie had a frown on her face, but it lightened up when she realised it was Paul standing at her doorstep.

“Evening,” said Paul, smiling.

“Good evening, Paul,” she said with a warm smile. “Hardy said you were back in town.”

“Oh, yeah.” He wondered what else Hardy had told Ellie. “After some time thinking, I figured it would be best if I were to stay here, in Broadchurch, vicar or not. It’s been my home for such a long time, I really didn’t want to leave,” he continued.

Ellie nodded. “Quite right.”

She happily invited him in. Paul nodded his thanks and stepped inside. There he was met with a small brown-haired toddler, wobbling over to him.

“You’ve met Fred, right?” Ellie asked.

“I saw him the last time I had held mass,” he said, crouching down to Fred’s height. “Hello, Fred.”

Fred gave a gleeful smile and laughed.

“Fred, this is Mr. Paul Coates,” she said.

It was strange hearing his own name without ‘reverend’ in front of it despite it being that way for nearly a year.

“Pal!” Fred yelled.

 _Close enough,_ Paul thought. He smiled, then lifted back up.

“So what brings you here?” Ellie asked.

“Ah, I was just passing. Taking a walk,” said Paul. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to say hello.”

Ellie smiled.

Paul was happy to see her smiling after everything she had to deal with during and after the trial. He suddenly wondered how the Latimer’s were doing.

“I was just talking with Beth,” said Ellie. “She didn’t know you were in town either.”

Paul smiled. “Well, it’s good to see you two are talking again – sorry. No. That wasn’t any of my business,” he instantly said. “But it’s good that everyone in the community is finally connecting after – well everything.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie quietly.

There was a bit of silence between the two.

“I should probably be going soon. Maybe I’ll stop by the Latimer’s on my way,” Paul said finally.

“Quite right,” said Ellie. “It’s good to see you back.”

Fred suddenly came over, clinging onto one of Paul’s legs.

“Pal! Stay and play!”

“Sorry little Fred,” said Paul. “I must be going. I’d rather not hold up your mum.” Paul turned around when Fred finally let go and headed out the door. Right before he left, Ellie called out something.

“How did Hardy know you were in town before all of us?” she asked.

Paul swallowed. He wasn’t sure how to answer without giving anything away.

“I saw him last evening up on the cliffs. Said hi. Don’t ask me why. I was surprised he didn’t try to swat me away as he does to everyone else,” he said carefully, but casually. He hated hiding things from people.

“Oh,” she said. “Right.”

Paul just nodded and left.

\------------------------

Hardy tapped his foot up and down on the floor causing the table to rattle.

“Yes, and I’m asking you to wait before telling the whole department,” he said, blinking once. “No, I’ll deal with DS Miller- I just need a location, yes. Thanks a lot, I owe you one.”

He hung up and set his mobile phone down. Stretching his arms out, he groaned in frustration, tearing his glasses away from his face.

What were his motives? Surely he wouldn’t try any stupid stunts that could cause him to be thrown behind bars. Or maybe he would. He was unknowable.

Hardy’s phone buzzed. He blinked, hoping to see it was a wrong number. Unfortunately, the one person he dreaded talking to popped up on his screen. Thank god it was just a text and not a call from Miller.

**Paul was over and said he saw you up at the cliffs.**

Hardy sighed.

**And?**

_**Typing…** _

He could visualize Miller’s eye roll at his ignorance, probably sighing.

**Are we going to talk about it or what?**

**Talk about what?**

**You know perfectly well what!**

**And if you won’t tell me I’m sure Paul won’t mind me calling him.**

**Then why don’t you just call him instead?**

There was a silence on the other side. Hardy’s heart pounded. He hoped that she wasn’t going to call Coates.

He waited a couple minutes until his phone buzzed again, this time the phone lighting up bright. She was calling him.

“What?” he asked a little too roughly.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Miller snapped back.

Hardy groaned. _What was he going to say?_

“Now, you’re going to explain yourself, Alec Hardy. How did you obtain those injuries?”

He really didn’t want to do this now. Not now, over the phone. He slipped his coat on and grabbed his keys.

“Hello?” Miller asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Stay put. I’m coming over.”

“What?-”

He hung up. _This was going to be a fun evening._

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So you made it to the end. Thanks for giving it a read! If you hated this story, I'm sorry, and I don't blame you hahaha. Ok. Imma stop talking.


End file.
